


Surrender

by EarthsickWithoutYou



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28650282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthsickWithoutYou/pseuds/EarthsickWithoutYou
Summary: Will and Hannibal have begun anew together in Cuba, but Will can't seem to find a way to show Hannibal he's ready for their love to become physical.  Until one night, the perfect moment finally arrives...
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 165





	Surrender

“Hannibal, I’m so sorry,” Will said, mainly because he didn’t know what else to say. 

They stood in the living room of probably the tiniest apartment in Cuba, a living room which opened into a claustrophobic kitchen -- a kitchen that tiny _had_ to be Hannibal’s worst nightmare.

Okay, not his worst nightmare; they’d been through too many dark and grisly times for that. But...it had to be up there. Will gulped, his heart skipping a beat tinged in guilt. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, Will,” Hannibal replied with an elegant shrug, depositing their travel bags, which he had insisted on carrying, on the floor against the back wall.

“But...you’ve lost everything because of me, to put it lightly, like insultingly lightly.” Will heaved a sigh, withholding eye contact because his regret was too strong for him to feel he deserved it. “Your glowing career, your social circle, your house, and now that the feds have cleaned out all your bank accounts--”

“Will Graham.” Hannibal took Will’s face into the palms of his hands and smiled down at him. “Do you think I would rather have any of those superficial creature comforts than the privilege of being here with you?”

Will laid his fingers over Hannibal’s wrist, daring a slight caress over the back of his companion’s hand. “Looking at my track record, it’s pretty hard for me to believe being stuck with me is a privilege.”

At Will’s touch, so slight but sincere in its bashfulness, Hannibal shivered. “Looking at _my_ track record, it is rather baffling to conceive of how you can doubt my esteem for you.”

“But this place is so tiny, it’s practically a toy model of an apartment,” Will reasoned as Hannibal let him go and stepped back as if he assumed he should. Will would really love to talk to him about how much Hannibal did _not_ need to keep his distance or stop touching him, but this moment, filled with complicated grief for what Hannibal had sacrificed, well. It wasn’t _the_ moment.

“I like this small but quite clean apartment far better than the slightly larger one which was filthy, and those were the choices. These days, I find myself quite content to accept the better of our options as they come.” Hannibal regarded the plain, freshly painted white walls with the same mellow acceptance as he did the definitely ugly tan carpet. 

The floor in the kitchen was worse, the sort of bright yellow which was simply too harsh to be cheerful. There wasn’t even a dishwasher, which really sucked because Hannibal’s current job was as a dishwasher at a restaurant. They had agreed it would be foolish for Hannibal to take work as a chef and inevitably shine so brightly that it would be a great big neon sign flashing _Here I am, Jack Crawford!_. They had both agreed to take this new beginning very carefully and slowly, letting time pass, letting the dust of their violent departure from the US settle before trying anything remotely ambitious. Will brought in a little under-the-table money fixing local boats, and Hannibal claimed he found the chipper bustle of the restaurant quite entertaining.

But the thought of his handsome, sophisticated, unbelievably brilliant friend dragged down to poverty, having to wash dishes all day then come home to a kitchen with no dishwasher made Will feel terrible. If he had just done things differently, believed in Hannibal sooner, not gotten married to someone else, not wasted so much time, it never had to be this messy. Even the memory of Hannibal’s own contributions to the whole messed-up aspect served as a reminder of how obsessively devoted the killer had always been to Will, while Will dwindled and wasted years on idiotic, pointless moralizing and hurting them both through deprivation of where they were bound to end up anyway. It had to be like this, they would be together or they would kill each other. Why had he tried to fool himself otherwise?

 _Maybe I_ am _a fool._ Will was dejected but he didn’t want to show it too much and bring down Hannibal’s mood. Hannibal deserved the best version of Will which Will could offer, even if it wasn’t much. 

“I’ve been thinking about that market we noticed on our walk yesterday,” Hannibal said casually. He went into the kitchen and checked each amenity with resigned interest, opening and closing the fridge and the oven as if they would double in size or quality under examination. “The prices on fresh produce were reasonable. I’ll go back shortly and purchase some ingredients for a celebratory dinner. And, I think,” he smiled, that charming Hannibal Lecter smile, as if nothing was wrong and they had just checked into the Ritz. “Mojitos are in order.”

Will’s heart somersaulted; he loved Hannibal so much, even though he’d never said so. They shared all of their free and domestic time together; they even slept in the same bed on their travels, and would here as well, he knew without their discussing it. This was just the way they were, wedged strangely between friends and something more. Will had come to realize that he wanted even more, and probably every breath in Hannibal’s lungs, every smile and tear and vicious hunt, barbaric feast to follow and every drop of Hannibal’s passion. Why was it so hard to say? He could also tell that Hannibal was uncertain of his wishes on the friends or lovers topic, too afraid to broach it himself and lose the closeness they had established. Hannibal could live on Will’s scraps forever, he had proven that. He loved so much better than Will, and the knowledge of this was a heavy weight on Will’s no-longer-confused heart.

“Don’t look so forlorn, my...that is, Will.” Hannibal blushed and Will wanted to kiss him so hard, but he had never kissed a man before and never kissed anyone he loved like this, and he was worried he might not do it right. Hadn’t he done enough to ruin this man’s life without also turning out to be a disappointment in the realm of lust? “I’ll make us arroz con pollo and fried sweet plantains. A flan for dessert, with chocolate sauce.”

Chocolate, because it was Will’s favorite. It was his turn to blush. “We’ll be eating out of cans for the rest of the week with what that one dinner will cost,” he said, wanting to kick himself immediately afterwards. He hadn’t meant to say something sensible and negative-sounding, but something tender that showed how much he appreciated Hannibal’s cooking and thinking so much of what Will liked. 

“Hmm,” Hannibal acknowledged breezily, strolling past the spot on the living room rug where Will was pinned down by anxiety. 

Hannibal checked out the bedroom, basically a closet with a bed in the middle that was barely big enough to fit two grown men. There wasn’t much to see, so he came back to the living room and sat down gingerly on the narrow, ugly couch the color of a rotten plum. The place had come pre-furnished with the cheapest stuff Will had ever seen, and he’d grown up poor. He could not make peace with the fact that the most elegant man he’d ever met, who was so in love with luxury and hated everything in poor taste, was now trapped in this hovel. Will wished he had a time machine to go back and make everything happen the right way.

But Hannibal just went on looking pleased, his main focus on lifting Will’s spirits, which was just...insane? Too much for Will to understand or take into himself with a feeling of worthiness. 

“I’m fine with eating more modestly for a while,” Hannibal elaborated. “As for this evening, however, it is our first night together in the very first home we have ever shared. And so we will dine like kings.”

“Okay,” Will said, flopping down beside him on the couch. “But only because I know it will make you happy to cook up this elaborate feast…” _That I don’t deserve any more than I deserve you, or your love._ He shoved the melancholy thoughts down and plastered a smile on his face which Hannibal must know was forced, but accepted for the moment anyway. “And only if I do all the dishes. You’re absolutely banned from all kitchen clean-up as long as we live here, deal?”

He stuck his hand out and Hannibal shook it with a chuckle. Their eyes met, warm cinnamon and crystal cerulean, Hannibal’s quiet excitement so unfathomable to Will. But even in the muddle of his long-held self-loathing, Will couldn’t help smiling again, this time for real.

“Goodness gracious,” Hannibal said softly, “It is hard to believe we are here together, given all the obstacles barring our path to freedom. I’m truly grateful, Will. No castle could feel like a more worthy home to me.”

“I...didn’t think you were the kind of person who said ‘goodness gracious,’” Will chortled, and he could _feel_ the way his eyes must be sparkling. He licked his lips, and Hannibal’s eyes flew to them automatically. Hot desire raked up Will’s spine and he clutched at his own knees in response. 

“I’m full of surprises,” Hannibal said rather obviously, but the way he punctuated the statement with a wink made Will feel positively love-drunk.

***

Will learned a lot about arroz con pollo that night, as he let Hannibal monologue on and on about the best way to make it and how flavorful the dish would be if you added just a hint of beer to the chicken broth. He was treated to a lengthy discourse on the proper balance of ingredients to make a mojito just as sparkling as it was refreshing. And Will listened with such a besotted face, he was sure Hannibal would notice. He kept hoping that instead of having to confess his love or how much he wanted them to kiss and touch, one day Hannibal would simply Know, and would then show Will what they should do. Hannibal would take Will in capable hands and guide him, and it would all be wonderful. But he couldn’t ask for that, since it sounded so intolerably selfish, always wanting Hannibal to do the heavy lifting of emotional intimacy. Still, he kept on hoping.

“You’re awfully quiet, Will.” Hannibal gave him a sweet, coy smile as they sat down to eat at the rickety little table. “Something on your mind?”

“I just love listening to you is all,” Will admitted, his face turning slightly pink. He so needed to get this right, get this _one thing_ , finally, right, after all of his blunders. If he could just find the right things to say and do, this could be a romantic dinner. “I could listen to you talk all night.”

 _Yes,_ Will thought with a self-conscious but thrilled grin as Hannibal blushed in return and stammered out a “Thank you, Will.”

Maybe this had been clear enough, maybe now Hannibal Knew?

Will couldn’t tell. Hannibal lifted his mojito and proposed a toast to rebirth, and then he said with an adorably goofy smile, “Now, Will, I hope you brought your appetite,” gesturing at the resplendent meal before them.

“Yes,” Will blurted, and his foot seemed to want to dart out to nestle against Hannibal’s under the table, but he restrained himself. What if he was wrong about the physical desire for him on Hannibal’s side? But also...what if he was _right_? And he was close to certain he was right. “I’m so hungry.”

***

Hannibal made them a fresh round of drinks while Will did the cleaning up, quickly and with fumbling fingers. He couldn’t take this tension and confusion anymore; he was going to make a move, now, tonight. What could he do, though? His mind spiralled through possibilities as he went into the living room to wait for Hannibal, but as he heard ice cubes clinking in the drink glasses, he knew Hannibal would appear before him any second, so he made a last minute decision.

The older man came to an abrupt halt, nearly stumbling over his own feet when he entered the candle-lit room to find Will standing there shirtless and terrified. His short-sleeved tropical-print shirt was still clutched in one hand, and as Hannibal took the sight of him in, speechless, Will bit his lip. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck; he felt like his heart was in his throat to the extent he’d soon choke to death on it. 

“Goodness gracious,” said Hannibal, his face awash with a tenderness so profound that it pained Will to behold. 

Will was still so afraid of being a disappointment, he was screaming inside. He wanted to run away, but he kept still aside from his trembling. From a great distance, he heard himself saying, “If I’ve misread the situation, please just tell me. I’ll put my shirt back on and we’ll act like this never happened, okay?”

Hannibal was awe-struck. He put the drinks down on the low table in front of the couch and went to Will, then tentatively, slowly stroked a curl back from his brow, tucking it behind Will’s ear in one long caress that left tingles in his wake. 

“Will, you are unquestionably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.” Hannibal’s voice was tight and his eyes wet with unshed tears. “I just have to know, before I touch you as I have dreamed of touching you for so very long, my love. Is this a thank you? Is this to make it up to me about the things I gave up for us to be together?”

“No, it’s not a thank you, and it’s not an I’m sorry,” Will murmured. He took Hannibal’s hand, warm and a little shaky, and pressed it to his raging heartbeat. “It’s an I love you.”

“My darling,” Hannibal said reverently. 

He cupped Will’s face in both hands as he often did in a comforting gesture, but this time he followed it up with the softest kiss. A kiss that felt like an envelopment, the promise of a joining to render what was once blurred, complete; to demolish every boundary remaining between them. The kiss tasted of lime, mint, rum and delectable masculine heat, and God, did Hannibal know how to kiss.

With one hand on the back of Will’s head, fingers tightening in his hair, Hannibal wrapped the other arm around him and coasted fingertips down Will’s back, deepening the kiss while Will looped his arms around Hannibal’s neck and moaned into his mouth. 

“I’m really worried I might be bad at this,” Will breathed against his lips between kisses.

“You spend quite enough time concerned with unnecessary anxieties, my dear.” Hannibal nuzzled their noses together with an indulgent laugh. “I think it’s fair for you to let go of worrying about absolute impossibilities.”

Will laughed too, his insecurities starting to go from accusing shouts in his mind to fainter whispers. And Hannibal was kissing him again, soundly, firm but adoring, guiding Will towards the bedroom. 

Flat on his back on the bed, not sure where to put his arms or legs, not to mention his hands, Will lost his breath when Hannibal began pressing sweet kisses all over him, down his neck, all over his arms, soft kisses cascading down his chest and stomach.

“Hannibal,” he sighed, running his fingers through silky, silvery hair.

Will had never expected it would be like this. He had always assumed if they did this, it would be a lot of Hannibal throwing him around, ripping his clothes off, bossing him around, and that had been enough to make him come during many a masturbatory session. But this, this gentleness, it spoke of such a deep love and a patience, and a commitment to taking it easy, not overwhelming Will with roughness or sudden moves. Will had never felt so utterly adored in his life, and he wanted to give it back to Hannibal in equal measure. He had never wanted anyone more. There was no one else who mattered, there was only _them._

Hannibal moaned while pressing a kiss to the softest place in Will’s low belly, then changed to a wet, open-mouthed approach at the exact moment his lips touched the smiling scar.

“Oh, God,” Will gasped, his cock heavy and aching with sweet lust, “More, please.” He realized he sounded pretty greedy for someone who had so far contributed “just lying on a bed and moaning” to their burgeoning sex life. “I mean, if you want to. I’d like...Jesus, I’m awful at this.”

“You’re wonderful at this,” Hannibal corrected him in a deep, raspy tone. “You’re everything I want…” He undid Will’s shorts and slid them down carefully, along with the briefs beneath, so that Will was fully naked, quivering and breathing only in sighs. “You’re everything I need,” Hannibal added, “All that I love in this world, this life.”

His lips drifted up Will’s thighs, his fingers stroking and testing firm muscle and curves, and Will thought to himself it seemed like only yesterday they were colleagues with a strange charge of chemistry, but then after that they had been bitter enemies at each other’s throats, wanting each other even more, and then they were inseparable best friends. There had never been a moment in Hannibal’s company when Will had been less than curious, less than desirous in some way, whether for the unique mysteries of his mind, the warm suffocation of his obsessive presence, or the sticky red burst of his life blood. He had wanted and craved all along, hiding behind his grumpy demeanor, then his vengeance, he had needed Hannibal. 

The need thrummed through his body like a roll of thunder; Hannibal’s sharp cheekbones flicked across the pads of his fingers as the older man dipped his head to draw Will’s throbbing erection into his mouth. 

It felt much, much too good -- nothing should _ever_ feel this good, reducing his entire understanding of the universe to one surge of unstoppable euphoria. Will cried out so loudly that Hannibal, without faltering a moment in the gradual lavishing of his wet, warm, perfect mouth and tongue over Will’s rigid dick, glanced up at him with the sweetest, most comforting look in his deep brown eyes. He also placed his hands on Will’s hips to soothe his trembling, his helpless fidgeting under the excessive pleasure. 

“Hnnhhhh, God, shit, fuck, _Hannibal_ , Hannibal --” Will twisted his fingers in Hannibal’s hair as he came so fucking hard and fast, right onto the older man’s tongue, thick spurts of seed soon swallowed as Hannibal smiled, delighted.

“I knew you were sensitive,” Hannibal marveled, lingering above Will, face to face now with his fingers tracing Will’s jaw, his own chiseled features lit by pure happiness. “But even in my many fantasies of this, I could never conjure such a vision of the sublime. Just look at you,” he sighed, watching as Will moaned and shivered with every touch of his hand, wandering across Will’s collarbone and then teasing hard nipples. “‘Exquisite’ is the only word, and yet how insufficient it seems.”

“Need to show you how much I love you,” Will said as tears slid from his eyes under dark, fluttering lashes. “Let me…” Fumbling fingers lifted the hem of Hannibal’s pale blue t-shirt with the word _Havana_ splashed across it beside a big orange sun and several palm trees. They were supposed to be living the disguise of silly tourists in tacky attire, but Hannibal had looked unfairly sexy all damn day in this stupid, snug t-shirt and a pair of low-slung jeans. 

He knew he was awkward, but Hannibal allowed himself to be entirely undressed by sloppy, confused hands as Will’s big eyes watched him in amazement. “Hannibal, you’ve always been the most beautiful sight in the world to me, too. I have thought about this so many times, until I couldn’t find ways to think of anything else.”

Still quivering, but smiling through his tears, Will steered Hannibal by the shoulders to lie beneath him as he kissed him in a special, new way. Before, Hannibal had kissed and Will let him; now, they were kissing each other, opening in soft, wet moans to stroking tongues, sucking and biting at their lips, muttering each other’s names and grinding, Will bracing his hands on Hannibal’s strong shoulders, Hannibal’s fingers gliding down his back to grope his ass. Their cocks brushed together, and a sharp thrill of pleasure shot through Will; he made it happen again, then again, until Hannibal growled and flipped them.

“Beautiful boy, how quickly you learn,” Hannibal purred, soon spreading Will’s ass cheeks with eager, but oh so gentle hands, quieting Will’s soft sounds of confused embarrassment as he kissed, then licked at his hole. “Oh, Will, please. If you only knew how I wanted this…”

“Okay, yes,” Will nodded, giving into the hot, wet delight of Hannibal lapping at his entrance, the vulnerability of complete surrender, the obvious implication of what was to come. “I-- Oh, my God, Hannibal, that feels unbelievable--”

“And so do you,” said Hannibal huskily. He went on longer, getting Will so wet and relaxed that his tongue could press slightly inside, causing Will’s back to arch as a jagged cry escaped his lips. 

“I’ll need lubricant,” Hannibal mused, which sounded much sexier than such a commonsense statement should; Will let out a whimper, and Hannibal smiled, then spent another few minutes contentedly eating him out as if in reward for his desperation. 

“Jesus, Hannibal, I don’t know if I can wait for lubricant,” he sighed, sweaty, sticky with Hannibal’s saliva, and dying for more closeness and friction. 

Hannibal’s cock gave a small jerk all on its own at that comment, and Hannibal shivered, calming himself as best as he could with a quick stroke of his own hand, his eyes closing as sharp fangs sank into his lower lip. He was shockingly beautiful like this, kneeling in front of a wildly sprawled Will, and what happened next was beyond Will’s ability to control. Before he had time for self-consciousness, he found himself in front of his lover, sucking his reddened, weeping cock with decidedly inexpert but adoring attention. He had all the thick heat of Hannibal’s cock thrusting slowly in and out in time with the movements of his mouth, Hannibal tugging his curls and calling him “baby,” begging for more and to fuck him, Hannibal grunting and easing himself from Will’s mouth before he accidentally tipped into an orgasm. 

“I won’t hurt you, sweetheart,” Hannibal whispered, lowering Will to his back, making sure his head was comfortably settled on a pillow, his shivering body covered by the thin but soft blanket. “I’ll get the olive oil from the kitchen.”

“Have you done this before?” he whispered against Will’s brow between warm kisses as, soon afterward, he rubbed lubricated fingers around the younger man’s hole. “On yourself, that is.”

“I never had the nerve...was afraid it might hurt,” Will admitted. “I know it won’t hurt with you. I know you’ll take perfect care of me. I trust you, and I need you.”

“My love,” Hannibal sighed, sliding a finger inside Will, slow and careful, finding a gentle in and out glide that soon had Will mewling in pleasure, his hole clamped hot and tight around the finger pressing ever deeper. “I’ve never felt anything as perfect as you.”

By the time Hannibal had two fingers thrusting deep inside him, Will was disintegrating, pushing his ass to meet the rhythm of every thrust, crying out louder when Hannibal began slamming his hand faster with an audible slap of skin to skin and a sweet, easy glide of lubricant. 

When Hannibal fucked him, Will held on tight and let himself fall from a height much higher than their cliff, to waves far more claiming; he was taken under, he was lost to everything else that ever seemed, deceptively, to matter. “Oh, God, Will,” Hannibal moaned, kissing him over and over, delving his thick cock so deep inside Will’s tight body, finding that perfect angle to make growing pleasure blossom more powerfully than ever. “The way you feel. How beautiful you are, how I love you.”

“I don’t understand why, I don’t understand,” Will sobbed in joy and regret. “I let you go to jail, I married someone else, I pulled you off a cliff.”

Hannibal paused in his thrusting, held Will’s face more sternly than he had so far this evening, and said clearly, “The only one still angry with you is you. You deserve this. You have my love, and I will do everything in my power to make you feel it, to fill your life with happiness. I want you, finally, to love yourself. That has always been my foremost desire for you -- for you to accept yourself, and to be beside you witnessing that Becoming. Love yourself. Can you do that, Will?”

Will nodded, “I can try. I can believe in you enough to try and believe in me.”

Hannibal gave him an almost indescribable grin, both naughty and proud. “Good boy. My brave Will.”

With that, be bore down on Will with the most thoroughly depraved fucking, grabbing his thigh, digging fingers into Will’s soft skin and grunting, growling, all golden skin and fierce passion consuming Will by flickering candlelight. The cheap bedframe rocked and creaked loudly when Hannibal turned Will over and fucked him from behind, and Will couldn’t have imagined him losing control like this, feral, sweaty, moaning Will’s name. The pleasure battled with the pain of its intensity after such a long period of touch deprivation; Will could hear the pangs of it in Hannibal’s rough gasps, could feel it in the desperate way he was fucked, owned, claimed, needed. Hannibal, who never needed anyone. To feel his lover so deep inside him, to be possessed in this way gave Will a heady sensation of power at the same time he surrendered, melded to Hannibal’s every desire. 

Hannibal’s hand found Will rock-hard and leaking again, so that a few quick, knowing strokes brought them both off together in near-exact unison, conjoined, Hannibal spilling into Will, warm, an experience naughty and exciting, leaving Will proud and glowing. He came all over Hannibal’s hand, and when they collapsed together, Hannibal licked his fingers, making hard eye contact with Will in the dwindling candle-glow, animalistic, panting and shaking. 

Will placed Hannibal’s hand on his belly scar, and with his free hand, Hannibal traced the scar on Will’s forehead, too, as the younger man’s hand traced the Verger brand on that beautiful back. They just stared at each other as a few minutes passed in wonderment. “I can’t bear that someone else put their mark on you,” Will said, finally, his voice strange and new, very dark and intent.

“You can change it someday,” Hannibal promised, kissing Will’s palm as it graced his face. Kissing Will’s fingers one by one, he sighed, “I’ve hurt you, too, Will, as badly as you ever hurt me. Perhaps worse. It fills me with joy to see the marks I’ve left on your beautiful body, but it pains me to think of you interpreting my touch as a condemnation or abandonment, much less associating my touch with pain.”

“You went without touch for three years for me,” Will murmured, drawing Hannibal even closer, nuzzling into his chest, soft hair tickling his nose, a fierce heartbeat pounding under firm muscle. “You plunged your blade into my gut, but I said ‘you delight; I tolerate.’”

“Point taken, my love. Lest I forget we are a zero sum game.”

Big fingers raked through Will’s sweat-mussed curls, then twisted them and let them spring free. Will breathed, in and out, astonished at his own happiness, not afraid of it as he had been on the cliff-top before the fall. 

“How are you now, my dear?” Hannibal’s deep voice echoed and reverberated in Will’s ears, his favorite sound. How wonderful, to know he could hear that voice saying the most loving, profane words to him, to realize he could have Hannibal moaning and gasping in devastating passion every day and night. “Does it hurt?” Hannibal asked as Will remained silently immersed in bliss. He caressed Will’s ass slowly, worry tinging the question because Will hesitated to reply.

“It hurts in the best way. More of an ache, and I think, a craving for more than anything else.” Will cast deep, velvety blue eyes on Hannibal’s overwhelmed expression.

“We won’t be here for long.” Hannibal wrapped him up in a snug embrace, rubbed his back and sighed against the top of his head, breath rifling Will’s curls. “Someday soon, we’ll craft a perfect cover, find the ideal place to start anew, earn enough money to live our every dream. Our enemies will give up on finding us, or we will slaughter them for getting too close.”

“What about your vows for revenge on certain past associates?” Will inquired, not especially bothered by Hannibal’s decision one way or the other. Still, his lover held him in a thrall of fascination.

“Hmm. Perhaps one day, if the mood should ever strike. I find myself remarkably unconcerned with anything but this,” he stroked a finger down Will’s bicep, “And us. And you.”

“But you made the time to deal with Bedelia…”

“That was for you, Will.”

Tears fell from Will’s eyes onto Hannibal’s chest, happy, grateful tears this time. “You’re so good to me. All this time, you were just waiting for me to let you be good to me.”

“It was worth the wait.” Hannibal kissed his forehead and Will looked up at him with an innocently pleading look that made him appear quite pleased in return. “What is it, my dear?”

“We don’t have to wait to get a dog, do we?”

Hannibal chuckled. “Certainly not.” Brushing his knuckles down Will’s back, he added, “And Will, I meant it when I said this place may as well be a castle if I share it with you. I’ll never forget our time here.”

“Our new beginning,” Will smiled. “Know how much I love you?”

Hannibal knew why he was asking, so he shook his head with an amused, aroused smirk. Will kissed his way down Hannibal’s chest, murmuring, “Guess I’d better show you, then. Enough times that you’re so,” he kissed warm, golden, beautiful skin, drawing out a different depth of volume and shuddering delight in Hannibal’s moans with every wet press of eager lips. “So sure.”


End file.
